


Bound into Infinity

by trulywicked



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Lives, Stiles Is The Nemeton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 00:44:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13178745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulywicked/pseuds/trulywicked
Summary: When an ancient magical tree falls in love, things get a little interesting centuries down the line.





	Bound into Infinity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acherona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acherona/gifts).



> Belated Christmas Present for my darling soul sister. MERRY CHRISTMAS AKRA! Hope you like this. More to come soon.

It was strange being immortal. To watch things go by year after year, decade after decade, century after century. millennium after millennium. To watch patterns form and repeat. To be honest it actually got  _ boring _ after a while. Even the pattern of being worshiped then reviled or feared to the point of attempted destruction got boring.

 

Nothing was new, nothing changed. And then one day a young warrior came to sit beneath the tree’s canopy, seeking shade from the heat of the day and rest, and he spoke to the tree.

 

It was used to people coming to talk to it. Used to people coming to ask for intercession in their difficulties, used to people asking for its power to assist them. People came all the time wanting the tree to do amazing or miraculous something for them. But this warrior was different.

 

He sought nothing but what he would have from any other tree in the forest. Shade and rest. And he spoke of simple things. The weather, the animals he saw, his family, the woman he was courting, the upcoming hunt he was preparing for. He spoke of his life and the life around him as though he spoke to a friend. Once he’d rested he thanked the tree for the shade and left, still not asking for anything.

 

It was unusual.

 

And he came back.

 

It became a daily routine for the warrior to come and spend some time sitting and talking. In time he brought the woman he courted now and then and they sat in comfortable silence or soft murmurs of love beneath the tree. The night of the warrior’s marriage, he and his bride came to spend it beneath the tree and, without being asked, the tree blessed them and their life together as they loved under its boughs.

 

The warrior brought the children he made with his wife to the tree and taught them to treat it the same as he had and the tree witnessed human children playing and resting beneath its leaves. The warrior brought happiness to the tree and the tree returned it to him as best it could, doing all it could to ensure he and his family were healthy and safe.

 

Then came the day when the warrior’s wife came to the tree alone, her hair shorn, a small jar in her hands, and knelt with a keen among the tree’s roots. For the first time one of the warrior’s loved ones asked something of the tree and it was a request the tree would never refuse.

 

The warrior’s wife asked to bury her husband’s ashes among the tree’s roots.

 

For the first time in centuries, the tree moved, gently opening the earth for the crying woman to place the warrior’s remains within it. 

 

Like the woman, the tree felt grief tear at its soul and realized it too had loved the warrior. It wrapped the remains in its roots, knowing the warrior himself was already spinning within the cycle once more, and hoped that one, in another life, he might come and once again rest among its roots and speak to it. Until then the tree would guard the warrior’s bloodline and those they loved to honor him and the friendship he’d brought to the tree.

 

It led to the tree’s death.

 

The warrior’s bloodline became wolves that walked as men and needed humans of power to assist them. One such human hungered for power and spoke lies to the warrior’s wolf descendants so that they cut away the tree. But the tree would not let the lying human profit from their lies and so, before the family it had guarded for centuries cut it down, the tree locked its power away. 

 

None would be allowed to claim its power for themselves but the warrior or the tree’s soul reborn. The power would remain in the dead wood of the stump left behind after its warrior’s descendants cut it down and only among that wood could any use its power.

 

The soul of the tree gladly entered the cycle with hopes that perhaps, when reborn, it might meet the warrior again.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

“We have to stop meeting like this.” 

 

“You’re not funny Stiles.” It was an irritable growl from the man chained to the nemeton’s stump.

 

“I’m just saying that someday we need to maybe run into each other in a coffee shop or maybe even make a plan to meet and catch up. It’s just a thought.” Long clever fingers worked at a shackle’s lock with a pick. “Because I gotta tell you Derek, this kind of hello isn’t good for either of us.”

 

“Tell that to the hunters who decided I’d make excellent bait.”

 

“For who?”

 

“Apparently they want to kill Peter.”

 

“Can’t blame ‘em for that. He does drive one to homicide most days.” Stiles got the first shackle undone, freeing one of Derek’s arms then moved to the other wrist. “But boy did they pick the wrong way to draw him out. The day Peter falls for an obvious trap is the day Gerard Argent hits his knees and begs for forgiveness.”

 

Derek snorted lightly. “Pleasant image. I can hear snarling and people getting their throats bitten out.”

 

“Jordan. These bright bulbs thought that kidnapping Lydia would give them an advantage. Control a banshee, control death and blah, blah, blah. Never mind that banshees can’t be bound and controlled once they know how to use their powers. Then there’s the fact that taking a hellhound’s mate is an excellent way to sign your death warrant. Hopefully their life insurance is paid up.” The second wrist shackle clanked open.

 

“Is yours?”

 

The unfamiliar voice had Stiles jerking around, hand going for the gun at the small of his back, and Derek sitting fully up, fangs bared but they were too slow to react to the javelin that punched through Stiles’ shoulder to Derek’s stomach, and pinned the both of them to the stump.

 

The hunter that had thrown the javelin smirked and walked toward them, a gun in hand, ready to blow their heads off. She’d cut her losses and was simply taking care of the loose ends before she got the hell out of dodge.

 

She was a little too slow.

 

Between one step and another an explosion of power broke through the clearing and traveled out like a shockwave. The javelin disintegrated and both Stiles and Derek were healed as Stiles sat up, literally glowing with power, eyes gone solid silver. He lifted a hand and in a blink the hunter was nothing but dust blowing away.

 

Derek sat up, eyes wide, his feet free of the shackles, and stared at Stiles. He’d known Stiles was a Spark, was training to use it, but this was beyond a Spark. This wasn’t even an inferno. This was the power of a sun unleashed. And it worried him. “Stiles?”

 

Stiles doubled over, arms around his middle as the power and memories of millenia surged through him. It fucking hurt. It hurt so much and he couldn’t find anything to hold onto to keep from being blown away by the surge. He managed to look at Derek but he couldn’t say anything as another face flickered over Derek’s for a moment, the memories associated with that face making his head pound. 

 

Panic flashed through Derek’s veins when he saw Stiles’ skin burning and he surged forward to cup Stiles’ face. “Stiles! Focus, you have to focus and get it under control.”

 

“Can’t,” Stiles grit out.

 

“Yes. Yes you can. Anchor yourself first. What do you hold onto when you’re falling apart? Your Dad? Scott?”

 

Stiles laughed humorlessly. “No.” Blood the color of rubies in daylight seeped like tears from his eyes. “Not them.”

 

“Then what?” Derek swallowed down his fear as that blood met his thumbs, the heat of the liquid almost scalding. “What’s your anchor? I won’t judge you for it Stiles.”

 

A pained hiss escaped him but Stiles answered. “You. Okay? It’s you.”

 

Surprise flickered through wolf blue eyes before they softened and Derek pulled Stiles closer, wrapping his arms around him. “Then hold onto me. I’ve got you Stiles, I’ll hold you together while you get the power under control.”

 

Stiles shuddered. “I don’t know how to-”

 

“A little at a time. Pull it in and find somewhere inside you to put it a little at a time. You can do it. You were meant for it.” Because the power pulsing through the clearing felt like Stiles and that could only mean that it was meant for him.

 

Stiles shook his head. “I can’t. It’s too much. It’s the tree Derek. It’s all the nemeton’s power and I can’t contain it. It’s not meant to be contained by a single human body.”

 

Derek held tighter. “What about shared? Can you share it to ease the strain?”

 

Stiles shuddered with pain. “I think so.”

 

“How many?” Derek knew that it wouldn’t be wise to share that kind of power with a large group.

 

“Just one I think but it’ll change whoever I share with and create a bond of sorts.”

 

Something that tasted of jealousy clawed at Derek’s throat but he didn’t snarl or snap. “How would it change me?”

 

“....Are you sure?” Stiles understood what Derek didn’t say, that he was willing to have a bond to Stiles.

 

“Yes. How would it change me Stiles?”

 

“You’d become an alpha again, possible immortality. Like no aging or illness.” Stiles’ fingers curled into the back of Derek’s shirt as he spasmed in pain.

 

Becoming an alpha again wasn’t on Derek’s list of ambitions or enjoyments but not only was Stiles’ life more important than his personal comfort, Derek didn’t want Stiles bonding in any way to someone else if he could be what Stiles needed instead. “I can deal with that. How do we do it?”

 

Stiles leaned back a little to look at Derek, checking to make absolutely certain that he was willing to do this, and nodded. “I have to feed you the power in a sense. A kiss. Sorry, it’s probably cre-”

 

“Shut up Stiles.” Derek interrupted him and cupped the back of Stiles’ head, pressing his mouth to Stiles’ softly. The contact was electric and sliced into and through him painfully at first. Then Stiles’ mouth softened against his and he felt the slim strength of him relax in his arms as Stiles took control of the kiss.

 

With Stiles’ acceptance and control, power spread from his mouth to Derek’s and into the werewolf. It sank into Derek, poured through him in nigh unbearable heat but it didn’t hurt any longer. It ripped along pathways that had been created when he was an alpha before, opening them again and flooding him with power stronger than any he’d ever felt before.

 

That power pulsed and cycled between him and Stiles, ebbing and flowing like a tide and building on itself until they held equal amounts of it within them and Derek could feel the emotions Stiles was experiencing with each beat of his heart.

 

Stiles ended the kiss, drawing back gradually, then buried his face into the crook of Derek’s neck. “Holy shit.” There was a pulse of affection, connected to a deeper love that just about took away his breath, from Derek. “You asshole. You’re in love with me.”

 

Derek’s lips twitched and rubbed his cheek against Stiles’ hair, scenting him. “That’s your fault. You just wouldn’t stay out of my space or my head.”

 

“Ha,” it was a short laugh, “I’m not responsible for your thoughts but I’ll own up to invading your space so I guess it is my fault.”

 

“From what I’m getting my feelings are mutual.”

 

“Yeah. Kind of layered now but yeah.” Stiles relaxed further, breathing Derek in.

 

“Past lives?” Derek felt something faintly similar, not as deep from the past as Stiles but definite affection from a life he didn’t remember living.

 

“Look at you with your ninja smarts. Yeah. Apparently I’m the reincarnation of the fucking tree! Your past life had a magical tree falling in love with him. Somehow this is just in perfect keeping with the crazy that is our lives.”

 

“....the first time you make a joke about having wood I will throw you in the closest body of cold water.”

 

Stiles blinked, lifted his head, and burst out laughing and leaned in to kiss Derek again. This time it was softer and without the power that had been burning through him he could really feel what it was to kiss Derek. The warmth of affection and a faint buzz under his skin that was attraction tickled his senses and he made a soft, disappointed whine when Derek pulled back.

 

“The others are coming this way.” Derek cupped Stiles’ cheek, his thumb brushing over reddened lips. “We’ll finish this later when there aren’t nosy parkers around.”

 

“Damnit. Right. This is going to be a  _ long _ conversation with everyone isn’t it?” Stiles straightened, dragging a hand through his hair as he got to his feet.

 

“Scott’s going to want to know why I’m an alpha again so, yes.” Derek got up as well and felt the quickly stifled rush of pain and fear that came from Stiles at the mention of Scott’s name. He glanced at Stiles but didn’t push, didn’t ask. He might later but for now he’d leave it.

 

But he reached out and took Stiles’ hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing in silent support and comfort that was echoed across the new bond they shared.

 

Stiles breathed in, the emotion from Derek settling him, and felt calm come over him as he watched Scott and the rest of the hodgepodge family of choice he had come running into the clearing.


End file.
